


all you ever wanted

by Anonymous



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mentions of Dutch's A+ parenting, POV Second Person, Pining, Slight Dutch/Arthur mention that's never acted upon, Unresolved Romantic Tension, gratuitous use of commas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26442460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: You meet Hosea in spring, 1874. Nothing is ever the same for you after that.-Five times Dutch wanted to tell Hosea that he loves him, and all the ways he made sure to tie Hosea to him during their years together.
Relationships: Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28
Collections: Anonymous





	all you ever wanted




Hosea tells you that he once wanted to be a priest. 

It suits him, you think. Suits him more than the life he lives, the life you offer him. From the moment you meet him, you want to fall to your knees in worship. 

You are both thieves, robbers, and worse. 

There is still something about Hosea that feels pure. 

In his presence, you feel purer too, like all your sins are washed away. 

_“We will do great things, you and I,”_ you tell him, and when he smiles so sweetly at you, you want to tell him about the connection you feel, like nothing ever will be the same again. 

There will be time for that later, you think, when you have made sure Hosea loves you too.




There is a before Hosea in your life, and with Hosea. You hope that you never get to experience an ‘after Hosea’, that he stays with you for as long as you like and for as long as you like is the rest of your life. 

You bring Arthur into your lives when it feels like Hosea might move on. 

Hosea is a good man, you know he is, and he stays with you because he knows he must, because he doesn’t trust you in raising the boy you saved from the streets on your own. 

He yells at you about it late in the night when the boy sleeps, about how impulsive you are, about how neither of you are fit to raise a kid, that the boy deserves better. 

But Hosea stays, and so does Arthur. 

You see yourself as a father to the boy, and Hosea takes up the role of the Holy spirit so nicely, capable of coaxing life into anyone, even someone so damaged as Arthur. 

Parenthood suits him, you think a month after taking Arthur in, watching as he falls asleep with his head in Hosea’s lap. It’s the first time you ever seen Arthur so calm. 

And Hosea smiles so prettily, carefully stroking the boy’s hair, just as he had done to you so many times before. 

You want to tell him that you love him right there and then. 

You don’t. 

Instead, you hope he understands the gesture. You have given him a son, a purpose. 

A love confession feels so petty compared to that. 




Hosea leaves you for a woman hed barely known for a year. You refuse to let him take Arthur with him when he leaves. 

Arthur is not a boy anymore but still acts like one. Mostly at the times when the longing after Hosea becomes too much for him. 

You are not enough for Arthur, never have been. There isn’t much in Arthur that you have helped foster, everything seems to come from Hosea, from the way he moves to the way he talks, even the way he looks at times. 

The similarity is even more striking after some shots of whiskey, and you are happy that you have sweet Annabelle there to rile you in when the longing after Hosea becomes to great, when you see too much of him in the young man you helped raise, the one you only ever took in because you wanted to tie Hosea to you even closer. 

You love Hosea, love him so much that it pains you when he’s away, like a part of you is missing. You imagine this is how phantom aches feels. 

Hosea is a good man and you know he would kill you if he ever found out about how you looked at his, _your_ son while he’s away. You never act upon it, but you know Hosea would hate you for even considering it, and you love him for it, love him for being your voice of reason, your moral compass even in absence. 

He once told you that you are the greatest man he has known. 

That’s how you know you are capable of good, because Hosea never lies to you and if Hosea can see goodness in you, so can you. 

You take Arthur out robbing and try to see all the other parts that make him. The anger, the misery, the nervousness, none of which Hosea possesses, at least not to the extent it does in Arthur. You call him son so many times that calling him anything else becomes unthinkable. 

You resist the temptation. 

Hosea comes back in spring. You almost say it then, how much you love him. But you have Annabelle and he has Bessie, and you aren’t willing to risk him leaving again. 

You know it’s because of Arthur, so you bring another boy into your lot when Arthur grows older, when the novelty of him has worn off. 




Annabelle dies. You care more about it than you thought you would, you even cry at times over her, but only when Hosea is around to see. He offers you comfort, rubs your back and kisses your cheek. 

Hosea and Bessie stay, and you hear them talk about it, how Hosea can’t leave you when you are like this, that it would be cruel to do so. 

He mentions John, mentions Arthur. 

You have given him two sons, more than _she_ ever could offer him, and still he prefers her over you. 

You always hated Bessie. Hated how she wormed herself into your lives, how she did everything she could to take what mattered from you. First Hosea, who worshipped the ground she walked on, then Arthur who clung to her like he still was some lonely orphan instead of the man you had raised him to be. Lastly, Susan, who seemed overjoyed over having a ‘sensible’ person among you at last. 

Arthur is no good company anymore, always grumpy and sad outside of the jobs you pull. You are miserable enough as it is, so you spend as much time as you can with young John who has some spirit left in him, a spark that Arthur never really had to begin with. I 

John looks like yourself, like a son. Arthur is like Hosea in everything but blood. You tried to kill that likeness before, carefully encouraging the other parts of Arthur, the ones Hosea tried to chip away. He’s versatile like that, moldable and desperate for approval in a way Hosea isn’t. John isn’t either, but that’s the only trait he shares with Hosea and you love him for it. 

And of course Hosea lectures you about favoritism, about you being unfair towards Arthur, as if Hosea isn’t unfair himself, lavishing attention upon that barren woman, smiling at her sweetly, as if she was his sun. 

You love Hosea, every part of him, even this softer, gentler side, the one you see so much of but never is the recipient off. You hate that Hosea doesn’t love you like he loves Bessie, that he isn’t as soft with you as he is with Arthur, the pitiful boy. 

He looks at you like he’s disappointed every time you take John out to town instead of Arthur. 

You try not to care. 

Hosea disappointed you first. 

You hate Bessie, hate her like you never hated anyone before, not even Colm, but your heart still breaks when she dies. 

Not because you are saddened by her death. No. 

Your heart breaks because Hosea clings to you as his life depended on it, and weeps into your chest, and drinks until he pukes, and weeps and drinks, weeps and drinks until the lines of grief are etched into his face like carved lines into marble. 

He’s still beautiful, though, even weak like this. 

Hosea’s weakness is the only one you tolerate. Nothing could stop you from thinking highly of him, because Hosea is all you aspire to be, and all you ever wanted to have. 

You love him, everything about him. 

You wish you had told him that you loved him before Bessie had the chance to. 




Hosea stays with you, and you find many other ways to bind him to you even closer. Tilly, Javier, Mary-Beth, Sean, Lenny, Abigail, and young Jack out of many, many more. You are the leader, but Hosea is the guide, the heart of the gang. 

He takes responsibility for the lot of them, and you once again think how much it would suit him, being a priest. He guides them all, sometimes gently, often with strictness as he has less patience for fools nowadays. He has already raised two of them. 

You have lost so much with time, so many people have passed by in the blink of an eye, and Hosea remains, steadfast as ever, as his golden hair turned into silver and the lines in his face grow deeper. 

He is still the most beautiful man you know, the only one you have ever wanted in your life. For twenty-five years you have wanted him, wanted him so much that it aches in your chest. 

It’s in Horseshoe overlook, holding his hand, warm as ever, that you realize you are running out of time to tell him just what he means to you. 

It takes weeks until you finally dare to try, and only because you feel the ever-looming threat of doom on the horizon. You are gonna rob a bank tomorrow and it feels like the world is about to end. 

Everything about this job feels wrong. 

Hosea and Arthur try to placate you, and you give in because you trust them both. 

You still don’t want to risk dying without him knowing 

You corner him in Shady Belle once everyone is asleep. You have practiced for days, weeks, years, for two goddamn decades how to say this to him. 

You don’t get the chance to tell him. The only words that come out from your mouth are _‘I need to talk’_ before he silences you. He grabs your hand, gently squeezes it and rebuffs you in that way you only ever let him do. 

“I know what you want to say, Dutch, and believe me when I say that this is long overdue,” Hosea says, kind as ever. “But not now, please let us talk about this tomorrow when all is done.” 

“Tomorrow,” you echo. Of course, tomorrow would be fine. One more day you can take, you have waited 25 years, one more day is doable. 

+1 

Twenty-five years are lost in a blink of an eye as Hosea, dear Hosea’s blood paints the street of this wretched Saint Denis. 

Time’s up. 

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous for now, because I wrote this drunk and i am a chicken.  
> Please let me know in the comments if you liked this fic, and thanks for reading.


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